


Pleasure Remark

by Hawkbringer



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Anal Fingering, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Denial Kink, M/M, Master/Servant, Oral Sex, Simultaneous Orgasm, Written in 2012, after a long day, awkward inclusion of japanese words, really leans hard on that underage kink, sorry boys bocchan stuck and i cant get it out, transactional sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:42:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23250406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawkbringer/pseuds/Hawkbringer
Summary: It has been a long day. The exact circumstances of it are not important, only that Sebastian is exhausted and famished. But he cannot have the one thing he yearns for so keenly - his master's soul. So he must accept this temporary stopgap measure. It is not enough, never enough, but by no means does Sebastian feel this is a hardship he must endure...
Relationships: Sebastian Michaelis/Ciel Phantomhive
Kudos: 32





	Pleasure Remark

**Author's Note:**

> Written on December 23rd of 2012, late at night. Edited since then, but no major changes made. The titular 'pleasure remark' is one Sebastian makes in the first volume of the manga, "In return for pleasure given" that leans hard on that sexual undertone that Sebastian and Ciel have always had to their relationship. 
> 
> As they all used to say at the time - don't like, don't read! ;)

Today has been /exhausting/. The exact circumstances are not important, only the fact that Sebastian is /famished/. He is /so/ hungry, and he cannot feed on that which he most desperately desires. So he must accept this stop-gap measure, this temporary solution. Although by no means does he feel that this is a /hardship/ he must /endure/.

He has a heart, this demon. He has displayed it on occasion; with every passing day, it becomes less and less of an act. It grows on him, this habit of caring. It does so even faster now that Master has let him keep a cat in the lower quarters of the mansion. (Sebastian is rather certain that it is not fully feline - or else it truly has 9 lives, Finny being its primary caretaker during the day, and with her ridiculous strength, it is obvious a normal cat could not have survived for long.) His master requires it of him, so he cares. But he can turn it off, if his master requires that of him, too. 

Cutting off the flow of soft emotions at the root will not stem the flood of anguish that overruns the demon's ravaged mind now, too swift for control. He can't just /turn it off/ when it's /this/ strong. He /can't/. He needs.... 

He /needs/. That is the most accurate way of putting it.

One hand to his temple, and a moment of closed eyes, which his sharp-eyed young master does not miss. "Hm? Tired, Sebastian?" Ciel asks from the plush seat. 

"A little," Sebastian admits, removing his gloved fingertips from his head and smiling with his eyes and lips both at his dear bocchan. "Today was remarkably taxing, especially compared to the previous weeks of relative peace. Would you not agree, bocchan?" 

"I do," Ciel allows, turning his head and sipping up the rest of his evening tea. Only the Phantomhive servants had felt any need for a true dinner after the events of the day. They are feasting downstairs, and Tanaka is with them, so the two are alone here in the upper mansion. "Shall we retire early, then?" 

Sebastian closes his eyes and smiles, puts one hand over his heart. The one that will not stop /beating/. "That would be most agreeable, my lord." 

Ciel hesitates as he rises from his richly-appointed leather chair. "Will you need sleep tonight?" Sebastian sometimes needs strange things after battles as intense as today's. 

"No," the butler replies. "Tonight I will need...your pleasure." He does not look the master in the eye as he says it. It doesn't matter, in any case, for Ciel does not turn to look at his servant, and so does not see his lapse.

He finishes rising from his chair, waits for Sebastian to push it back in, and marches to the door, throwing over his shoulder a simple, "Come, then," and exits through the open door.

Sebastian's smile is distinctly more sharp-toothed this time. "Yes, my lord," he all but hisses as he trails after his young master, closer than his shadow.

\-------

This is not the first time they've done this, but it has not occurred so frequently as to relieve either of them of the hesitating awkwardness that neither would, in their wildest /dreams/, even /think/ of calling /'nerves'/. 

Ciel makes use of the toilet alone, then calls Sebastian in to attend him in the bath. The butler himself has already replaced his bloodied clothing and presumably he feels no need to scrub his skin red-raw but Ciel needs the soap and scratching nails to slough the s(k)in away. 

When he is pink and pruned and shivering, he finally commands Sebastian to fetch a towel. Pausing for only a moment, he adds, "Don't bother fetching nightclothes." Sebastian closes his eyes and nods, then rises and flits away.

For a moment, standing naked and drip-dry in the bath, Ciel does not know where to put his feet. 

Then his manservant returns with a towel and soft eyes, dries him fully, then follows his fluffy-towel-swaddled master to the turned-down bed.

Ciel sits down upon his well-prepared bed in silence, shrugs the towel off his shoulders and lets it sit around his elbows like a king's ermine-trimmed cape. He turns his head away from the sight of Sebastian kneeling before him with head bowed, desperately awaiting Ciel's orders, and says in his accustomed commanding voice, "Strip." 

He hears a velvet-warm "Yes, my lord," from somewhere to his right, and at the first rustle of clothes, his resolve crumbles and he turns to look. 

Despite the discoloring, obvious mark upon his iris, Ciel's right eye functions perfectly well - if for a slight astigmatism that has developed since he has taken to wearing the patch over it at all hours of the day. 

Blinking unconsciously to focus, the young master zeroes in on where Sebastian is folding his gloves over a chair; neatly placing his tailcoat upon the nearby hook; removing the bands from his arms that hold his sleeves in place, and shrugging out of his white button-down shirt. 

Ciel has not often had cause to see this - his butler, bare-chested - and the novelty of it has not yet diminished. His butler is whip-cord thin, every muscle of his borrowed frame stretched and taut and beautifully-formed, skin as smooth and unblemished as Ciel's own once was (which is perhaps where he got the idea, Ciel thinks), the unassuming slightness not displaying the devastating strength and power Ciel knows those muscles possess. 

But he will never experience that strength for himself, not in the way his enemies will - When /he/ is touched by Sebastian, it is only ever kindly, only ever gently, despite the way his glances can cut and sting and burn. He is only ever held within these arms, only ever cradled, and the naked line of skin Ciel can trace from fingerpad to wrist, to shoulder, neck, and ear, is as inviting as it ever is, even when he cannot see it. 

He has placed his head here, Ciel remembers, as his butler's form slowly sinks into his own and presses him back, then down, into the bed. Upon this shoulder, rested it against this neck. He does so now, nuzzling at the neck and cheek and ear so close to his own mouth.

"You've still...trousers on," he notes muffledly, the hands that trace down his servant's back interrupted rudely by the fabric.

"Ahh, so I do." Sebastian sounds very unapologetic about this fact. "Whatever is to be done about that?" 

He is teasing now, and Ciel knows it, so he groans in exasperation and pushes at the nearest part of Sebastian's body he can reach. 

"Up," he commands. "Clearly, I'll have to do it for you. Absolutely impossible... demons and their need to /tease/..." the young master mutters as he scoots down the bed as the demon rocks onto his side to expose his front to his master's perusal. 

The clasps of the trousers come undone quite easily, and Ciel ruefully acknowledges that he is better versed in removing Sebastian's clothing than his own. Then the rustle of fabric distracts him again, draws his eye to where a slight darkening trail of hair leads down to, and then frames, a magnificently erect manhood. 

Ciel sighs when he sees it - he cannot /help/ but sigh - for it is everything he wishes his own could be: proud and slightly curved near the top, of impressive length yet slender girth when hard, visible yet unassuming when flaccid, perfectly shaped, perfectly colored, and--as he leans down to place his nose within its range--/divinely/ scented. 

Probably not a quality the demon was /aiming/ for, Ciel believes, but he enjoys it nonetheless. He nuzzles this part of his servant, too, smiling slightly against its flesh where it twitches and bobs against his cheek. 

When he has drunk his fill of the intoxicating scent of it, the same scent that draws him to place his head upon Sebastian's shoulder in moments of utter exhaustion, Ciel raises his head, and the hard look in his two-colored eyes drives the breath from Sebastian's lungs. 

The absolutely wonderstruck expression on his loyal butler's normally-stoic face is something Ciel is proud to evoke, every single time. It is an expression usually reserved only for his cats, the ones he cooes over and pets and strokes with abandon. (Ciel refuses to acknowledge that this might be a cause for jealousy on his part.) 

"You may service me now," he declares imperiously, stroking his butler's cock once, twice, in his uncallused palm. "I trust you are sufficiently..." another stroke, ".../motivated/ to accomplish this task?" 

The butler's shoulders sag and his face betrays more weariness. "I have been ready to do this to you since you first sought out my presence, my young lord," he intones in a darker, lower register than Ciel usually hears. His eyes flash open, irises roiling, pupils slitted. "To /feed/ on you...in whatever way you will let me."

"Tch!" Ciel scoffs as he throws himself onto his back, largely unaffected by the words and the vision before him. Largely. "Just be glad that I'm not into piss-play." 

As expected, the butler simply smiles, but his next words manage to shock. "As I said, in /any/ way you will let me." 

Slightly unsettled, Ciel squints one eye at him, not sure if his butler is serious. "Well, this /is/ the least messy of the many non-injurious ways to devour me, so I'll order you to get on with it, if you've finished waxing poetic about what, to you, is simply a little /snack./" 

There is some insecurity there, that Sebastian hears despite Ciel's bravado-filled tone. He lifts one ungloved hand and strokes a thin calf lovingly. "Little, perhaps..." he jokes, trailing one finger around the leaking, foreskin-covered head of his young master's pre-pubescent erection, "but I would never demean something so very...necessary to me." He looks up beseechingly into Ciel's eyes. "Could you survive without this pleasure, having known it?" 

Ciel shrugs. "I will never have to know, will I?" He smiles rather ruefully as he tugs Sebastian's head toward the cradle of his hips. "But, considering how events have been unfolding since I called upon you, I would hazard to guess that the answer would be 'no.'"

Sebastian smiles, his young master's cock now rubbing against his lips. "Good answer, my lord." And he slurps his bocchan's cock down whole. 

His bocchan is small enough, and he is skilled enough, that the entire thing fits in his mouth without trouble. Wasting no time, Sebastian immediately hollows his cheeks and begins swirling his tongue, breathing through his nose and varying the stimulation in response to this boy's commands alone. 

Physically aroused though his body is, Ciel's mind is not engaged in the sex play, so he commands, "Take your head off that." Sebastian does, lips distractingly wet and red as he licks them. "Lick my entrance, then milk me with two fingers; drink my essence and have /done/ with this." He looks away from Sebastian's pleasure-dizzy and adoring expression. "I find I'm not in the mood for drawn-out games tonight."

"Of course, my lord," Sebastian says as he bows, his head lowering enough that his hair tickles Ciel's thighs, making the boy squirm. He covers it by canting his hips back and shifting his thighs more fully open. Sebastian notices the feint and smirks a little, fits his hands snugly in the crease behind each knee and lifts, then applies his tongue. 

Ciel will not admit it, but this is his favorite part - the stimulation of such a hidden, secret place, the taking of pleasure from an orifice that is not supposed to feel it. The penetration, while satisfying in its own way, tends to burn, always does, but this licking is the purest form of pleasure this orifice can receive....and that it is /Sebastian's/ tongue, the one that can tie a cherry stem into a knot with no help from his teeth, makes it all the better. 

The young earl's eyes are screwed shut and his hips twist and rock as his butler's tongue spears into him, as his lips press kisses to it repeatedly, as his tongue pushes in saliva to act as lubricant. When Ciel decides that Sebastian has lost sight of his end goal and is simply wallowing in the act of tongue-fucking his lord, Ciel cries, "That's enough!" 

Sebastian's surprised face, the bottom half of which is obscured by his young lord's cock and balls, with his preternaturally-long tongue still buried in his little ass, is an absolute gem of a sight that Ciel valiantly attempts to commit to memory in its entirety. "I think you're having entirely too much fun down there. /Put/ those two fingers in and get /back/ to sucking my dick." Sebastian is rather loftily pleased with himself that /he/ taught his bocchan every single one of those dirty words, gave him every single ounce of the confidence he exudes in this bed.

"Yes, my lord," Sebastian murmurs against the well-loved skin, and gives his hole one final luxuriating slurp before wolfing down his master's cock once more. His ungloved fingers come up, sliding along the sensitive inside of the small thighs, playing around the edges of the dripping cock-filled mouth to get them wetter, then stroke and press against the much-ignored perineum. 

Opening greedily to him, the young master's slick anus twitches closed around Sebastian's first finger, clinging to it, begging it to go deeper. Sebastian purposefully drizzles saliva onto his bocchan's tight balls, spreading it down to his hole and adding the promised second finger. The stretch of it makes Ciel grunt a little, his fingers drawing lines against Sebastian's scalp. (He holds his dark-haired head to him as if afraid the man would stop without the constant pressure.) 

Sebastian searches for, and quickly locates, the hardened nub he seeks. Rubbing his two fingers in purposeful circles around the gland while fucking open Ciel's hole with the knuckles at the base of those fingers, Sebastian hums around his master's cock and then chuckles deep in his throat, where his master will feel it. His bocchan begins huffing and panting and grunting out syllables that do not form words, but perhaps a name...

One particularly hard thrust has the young lord shouting loudly and cumming down his servant's throat. The young boy bends double and clutches Sebastian's head to him, hard, his hips thrusting shallowly on pure instinct. Sebastian slowly disengages his buried fingers, focusing on the many sensations of his beloved master mid-orgasm as his other hand flies against his cock, bringing himself over the edge within seconds of his master, before his red-rimmed hole has even fully released his fingers. 

Sighing with completion and sucking harder as his master's cock weakly pulses against his tongue, his master's shudders slowing and his eyes closing in post-orgasm lassitude, Sebastian, the devil of butler, temporarily sucks out his master's soul through his tiny cock. 

The rejuvenating effect of the life-energy expelled by the boy's orgasm leaves Sebastian panting and gratified against his master's bony hip. He moves, when he can, to cover the beloved form with his shadow, then the total press of a full-body hug, then shifts to just one arm and a leg as he curls up behind his life-giving little bocchan, wipes the residual fluids off them both, and presses kisses into his sweat-limp hair. 

/He'll need another bath tomorrow,/ Sebastian thinks with an ironic smile. Honestly, they could have skipped that step this night. But the ritual cleansing of the horrors of the day was beneficial for them both. 

That is why he loves this little soul after all; this soul that stands in darkness, yet remains unapologetically pure. Sebastian will let nothing corrupt his bocchan, will let nothing stand in his way - the Honorable Earl Ciel Phantomhive, Phantomhive's head of house, will have his revenge, and Sebastian Michaelis will have his blood-stained, untarnished soul. It will be a good end to this good tale. 

But until that day, he has this little body to cradle against his own, to follow wherever it leads, to protect at the expense of his own life, and to feed off of - when and how his bocchan allows it. All in all, it is a good trade, Sebastian thinks, smiling as he allows himself the luxury of a few hours sleep before the dawn. He cannot wait to see how this most recent game will play out.

**Author's Note:**

> Messy and un-beta'd, italics remain as //'s and will not be changed since fixing that takes too many spoons and would prevent me from posting entirely. Thank the Great Quarantine of 2020 that this fic is getting posted at all! Leave me a comment if you want to help me with HTML, or think I should add some tags, or loved the fic, heck, that too. OP is not accepting criticism, as the author is 8 years into the past and cannot hear you. :3


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